


miscellanea

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: 15 Days of FatT, F/M, M/M, Multiple Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-18 06:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13676127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: 15 days of fic for #15daysofFatT 2018





	1. Dance (Lem/Fero)

**Author's Note:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

It’s a night for celebration in Velas, one of the smaller festivals. Fero isn’t too sure of what it’s for  _ exactly _ \- some kind of harvest celebration, or maybe something to do with fishing? Either way: there’s a lot of food, a lot of people around who look tired but happy, gathering together under the soft glow of lanterns. 

 

Fero watches them from the side of the square, leaning against food carts to speak to one another before someone inevitably pulls them towards to centre of the square to dance. They swirl around on the ragged cobblestones, tall and graceful and perfectly in time with one another.

 

He thinks, ruefully, of long ago ( _ very _ long ago), when his mother sent him to dancing lessons with the other children. What he remembers from those lessons is stepping on his dance partner’s foot ( _ mostly _ by accident). Fero did not enjoy those lessons, and after the first few times had to practically be dragged to the class. It had all seemed so useless at the time, just another part of Proper Halfling Life that itched at him.

 

Still, watching the dancers move around the square, gliding around one another easily, Fero almost wishes he’d payed more attention to those lessons. It looks nice, to be able to move like that.

 

“Finally!” says a hassled-sounding voice beside him, “I’ve been looking for you for  _ ages _ . I started to think you’d gone back to the inn already.”

 

Fero tilts his head up to look at Lem, who looks as hassled as he sounds. Lem’s never been a fan of loud, crowded spaces of towns. Fero gets it - even the few spaces at the Archives that do get crowded were always quiet, voices hushed when there were voices at all. The forest was a bit like that too. Being back in a city takes some getting used to.

 

Fero shrugs. “Well, here I am.”

 

Lem lets out an annoyed breath. “I can see that.” He glances towards the dancers as the music shifts to something fast and light, the dancers quickening their steps to match the beat. “I didn’t think I’d find you  _ here _ .”

 

Fero frowns. “This is like, the main area. Where else would I be?”

 

“Yes but,” Lem makes a face, gesturing at the dancers. “I didn’t think you liked, you know… all this.”

 

“Just because I don’t do it doesn’t mean I don’t  _ like _ it,” says Fero.

 

“Oh,” says Lem, “it’s just, you’ve never… I mean,  _ I’ve  _ never seen you, you know, dance, so I just assumed…”

 

“Yeah, well,” says Fero, his eyes sliding back to the dancers. “Not a lot of people outside of Rosemerrow are the right height for a dance partner.”

 

“Right,” says Lem, “right, of course.”

 

Lem rocks back on his heels, hands twitching like he does when he’s searching for words. Fero ignores him, tucking his hands into his pockets. It’s not like he  _ wants _ to dance, obviously, he’s not good at it, and even if he  _ was _ he’s much too short to dance properly with someone here. Lem, for example, would be much, much too tall for Fero to ask him to dance. 

 

Just as an example.

 

“You could always stand on my feet,” says Lem.

 

Fero blinks, startled out of his train of thought. “ _ What _ ?”

 

Lem’s blush is visible, even in the low light of the lanterns. “I just meant, if you wanted to dance. You could stand on my feet, and then us being the right height wouldn’t matter as much.”

 

Fero’s chest feels tight, as though somehow the air is being sucked out of the square.

 

“What?” says Fero again, faintly.

 

Lem’s hands flutter as he gestures. “You know, I just thought-- if you wanted to-- not that you do, obviously--”

 

Fero reaches for Lem to stop him from turning away, half-stumbling in his haste to get his hand out of his pocket. He wraps a small hand around Lem’s wrist and Lem looks down at him sharply, his cheeks still flushed a deep green.

 

“Yeah,” says Fero, trying to keep his voice steady and failing miserably, “yeah, that could be okay.”

 

Lem smiles, and Fero smiles back. His chest still feels tight but now instead of a breathless feeling, it feels warm, like when he’s a cat curled in a patch of sunlight. Lem shifts his hand, tangling their fingers together, and Fero feels the warmth in his chest rise to his cheeks.

 

Lem clears his throat. “Right, so, uh… shall we?”

 

Fero nods. “Sure, we, uh… maybe we should stay on the edge of thing? If we’re going to, you know, with me on your feet?”

 

“Right,” says Lem. He clears his throat again, stepping in front of Fero. “So, um.”

 

Fero gingerly steps onto Lem’s feet, trying to think light thoughts. He winces, looking up at Lem. “Is this... okay?”

 

Lem smiles, and Fero can feel some of the tension leave his shoulders.

 

“Of course. Now, um, if you just…”

 

Lem guides Fero’s free hand to his side, resting just below his hip. He puts his hand on Fero’s shoulder. The warm weight matches the feeling in Fero’s chest.

 

“It’s just like a pattern, really,” says Lem, “See, we just--  _ one _ , two, three,  _ one _ , two, three…”

 

By some miracle, they don’t bump into anyone, even though Lem doesn’t take his eyes off Fero (and Fero certainly isn’t about to look away from him). They turn slowly around the square, out of time with the music, out of time with the other dancers, but in time with each other, swaying to the rhythm of Lem’s voice until late into the night.


	2. Sleep (Hadrian/Rosana)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

After Hadrian had asked for her hand, and after it was much too late for her to want to take back her enthusiastic agreement, Rosana’s mother had warned her about getting married to someone in the Creed.

 

“His heart will always be elsewhere,” her mother had said, “a man of the Creed is either with you and wishing he was serving our Lord, or serving our Lord and wishing he was at home.”

 

Rosana nodded, too caught up in her own heart to really listen.

 

It wasn’t really true. At least, not in the way her mother had meant it. When Hadrian was at home, he was as fully there as she could have wished, a dutiful husband and then, later, a dutiful father also. When Hadrian was away, he wrote letter after letter, which Ben clumsily read aloud to her after their dinner (well, most of them. Some of the letters were for her alone, to be read by the low candlelight of their bedroom after she’d tucked Ben into his own bed, as she leaned back into pillows that still smelt faintly of Hadrian and imagined he were there with her.).

 

The only time it was even close to true was the first night Hadrian would return home from a journey, shoulder slumped with the exhaustion of a long ride, the smile on his face tired but still warm, like the last few rays of the sun. He was always quieter than usual the night after he returned to them, distracted in a way she could never quite put words to, answering Ben’s thousand questions with few words.

 

Even though he always seemed his most tired on those nights, it always took forever for her to pull him into bed, to convince him to wash off the dust of the road and put on the clean, soft clothes he slept in, to lie beside her under the covers.

 

Inevitably, about five minutes after she had finally managed to get Hadrian to lie down, Ben would poke his head around the door, cautiously stepping into the room. He was getting to be almost too old to be doing such a thing, but still, she would let him crawl under the covers between herself and Hadrian.

 

She certainly understood the impulse, tracing her fingertips over the new lines on Hadrian’s face. They were both quiet, listening to Ben’s deep breathing. He fell asleep quickly on those nights, any bad dreams chased away by the returned presence of Hadrian. Rosana understood that too, letting out a soft sigh as Hadrian covered her hand with his, pressing a light kiss to her palm.

 

Rosana leant closer to kiss him, warm but chaste, and she felt Hadrian relax into the bed a little more. She smoothed a hand over his cheek as she leant back, peering at him in the dark. He always looked so  _ tired _ after he returned to them.

 

As she moved back, Hadrian caught her hand, tangling their fingers together, quickly pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, a movement leftover from their courting days. She huffed a laugh, keeping their hands intertwined as she relaxed back onto the bed, their joined hands resting on Ben’s side as they fell asleep, all together at last.


	3. Metamorphosis (Lem/Fero)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Done as part of the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

Lem knew Fero could transform into animals, of course, Fero had told him about it when they’d first met, his arms spread wide as he told Lem a  _ very _ boastful story that he  _ swore _ was true but that could not possibly have happened. Often, when they saw each other, Fero would reference having flown or swum or crawled somewhere as a creature, and Lem would nod, trying to picture it and not  _ quite _ believing it.

 

Knowing it and seeing it happen in person, it turned out, were  _ very _ different things.

 

Lem peered out from the rock he’d been crouched behind, watching Fero as he swooped down into the canyon, diving at two of Morbash’s men that had been following them. He dodged easily out of the way of their swords, clawing at them before he soared out of their reach. 

 

Fero screeched, and Lem could hear the joy in it as he dove down again and again, driving them away from Lem’s position. He circled them in the air for a while before he headed back to Lem, transforming back into a halfling as he landed.

 

He grinned up at Lem. “They’re gonna take the long way round, so as long as we’re quick we’ll get to Velas long before they will! We--” Fero wrinkled his nose. “What? What’s that look for?”

 

“I-- you--” Lem struggled to find the words, to describe how it had felt to see Fero throw himself into the air and form feathers and wings and in an  _ instant _ be something entirely different. 

 

Fero’s cheeks went slightly pink. “Well, that’s-- I mean, I told you I could do that.”

 

“Yes, but,” Lem waved a hand, “you didn’t say it was like  _ that _ .”

 

Fero’s grin widened. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

 

“That was  _ incredible _ ! You’re  _ incredible _ !” said Lem, “And you just, you know,  _ did _ it, no pattern or anything!”

 

Fero laughed. “I told you!”

 

Lem laughed too, still caught up in the joy of seeing Fero in the air. “I know!”

 

Fero grinned up at him, sharp and clever and amazing, and Lem reached for Fero’s hands without really thinking about them, grasping them tight.

 

“I just…” Lem let out a breath. “ _ Thank _ you.”

 

Fero ducked his head for a moment before he looked back up at Lem, his smile deepening into something warm and pleased. The warmth of it stayed in Lem’s chest even after he let go of Fero’s hands.

 

 


	4. Vacation (Gig/Kent)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

The thing about streaming all the time, about doing it so much that it makes practical sense to replace your original bio eye with a camera, is that it’s hard to stop doing it. Not the turning off the broadcast part, that part’s just mechanical. It’s the turning yourself off, which is a switch that's much harder to find. Gig often finds himself narrating what he’s doing aloud, throwing beaming grins to a camera that’s not there. 

 

It’s mostly not an issue - the people of Gumption’s Gambit were too used to him to think of it as unusual, and Quire had too much happening for other people to notice Gig explaining how to put together a firepit to no-one in particular.

 

It’s quieter on Brighton though, especially inside Kent’s house. And Kent is unusually observant for someone so busy. 

 

Kent never asks about it, is the thing, but sometimes he’ll check if Gig's feed is live, his voice hushed as he hesitates in the doorway, and that's how Gig will realise he's been talking aloud to himself, like he has been for the past fifteen minutes about the layers of a sandwich. 

 

“No, sorry, I was just, you know--” Gig waves a hand, “I was streaming before when I was setting up your watering system and I guess I'm still kind of in the zone.”

 

Kent nods, stepping forward so he's opposite Gig across the counter. “I didn't want to interrupt, I know that streaming takes a lot of focus, it's something that has a flow to it. I didn't want to interrupt the rhythm.”

 

Gig smiles. “Well don't worry about that! People love seeing you on stream.”

 

Kent blinks. His hands flutter up for a moment before settling back on the countertop. “Well that's… that's good, good for Brighton, good for our economy, good for the people here.”

 

Gig nods, moving on to cut up the green and purple vegetables.  _ Now they taste a bit like tomatoes _ , Gig thinks,  _ but they come from the sea. Definitely recommend them if you're out this way guys, they're great.  _

 

“Do you?” asks Kent. 

 

Gig looks up quickly, trying to figure out if he'd been talking aloud again. 

 

“Do you like me being on your streams?” asks Kent. “You're a very welcoming presence, a  _ very  _ welcoming presence, and it's been good for Brighton, good for me, but we've never…” Kent trails off slightly, his voice losing its usual cadence. “We've never formally discussed it.”

 

“Oh!” says Gig. “Well, don't worry about that! I love it too, obviously.”

 

Kent clears his throat, his cheeks going slightly pink. “Oh, good, good.”

 

Gig looks up at him. Kent’s fingers are tapping out a beat on the countertop. Kent’s like him, he’s not good at keeping still, not good at capital-R-relaxing even though he lives on a vacation planet. Gig gets it - there’s always so much to do, a new thing to be built or fixed, another person you need to go speak to. 

 

He doesn’t normally look so nervous though. Gig puts down his sandwich ingredients and puts a hand over Kent’s.

 

“Kent, do you… you’re cool with being on streams, right? Like, I never asked, but--”

 

Kent blushes slightly. “No, absolutely I am, absolutely, it’s a pleasure, an honour to be asked, an honour to be asked.”

 

Gig beams at his. “Great! I mean, you’re a natural on there.”

 

Kent’s blush deepens. “Oh, I-- really?”

 

Kent can sometimes be a bit stilted, especially if he’s thought too much about what he’s going to say beforehand, but he always loosens up after a few minutes on stream and after that he always does a great job. That’s what Gig thinks and he would know, he’s been doing this almost his whole life.

 

“Yeah, of course,” says Gig.

 

He keeps his hand on Kent’s, squeezing slightly, smiling in what he hopes is an encouraging way. Kent leans forward at that and Gig almost leans back, so he’s not in Kent’s personal space, but Kent is faster, pressing his lips to Gig’s. Gig makes a sharp noise of surprise.

 

Kent immediately pulls back. “Sorry, I just-- you’ve been here quite a while, and I thought--”

 

Gig squeezes Kent’s hand again. “Hey, no, it’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it! It’s totally more than okay.”

 

Kent’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “You weren’t expecting it?”

 

“Yeah, I-- oh, wait,” a laugh burbles up inside Gig’s chest, “wait, when you asked me to stay with you, you meant--”

 

Kent covers his face with his free hand. “Yes.”

 

Gig covers his mouth, trying to muffle his giggling. “And when I got here I asked you which one was going to be my room and you had to ask someone to make up a room for me and I was like ‘that’s weird since you asked me to stay here like yesterday and you’re usually so prepared for this stuff’ but you meant--” he breaks off, cutting himself off with laughter.

 

“I thought you were just subtly turning me down,” says Kent.

 

“Kent,” Gig manages through his laughter. “Kent, I would _never_.”

 

He means it, too. He likes Kent's rhythmic way of speaking and his soft smile and his warm hands. Gig leans forward over the counter, trying to suppress his laughter as he kisses Kent. He mostly doesn’t succeed, giggling against Kent’s lips. Kent doesn’t seem to mind, huffing a laugh, and leaning against the counter to tilt more towards Gig.

 

Kent doesn’t really get better about capital-R-relaxing, and Gig never really gets great at figuring out how to turning himself off of broadcast mode. But it does get easier, after that, to pull each other away from work to lie on the stretch of sandy beach near Kent’s house, or to convince each other to turn in early (or, at least, at a reasonable hour). 

 

And even when they can’t do that, even when there really is just that one last thing they  _ have _ to stay up to do, the other can be there, leaning against their shoulder while they finish their work, reminding them that there’s a warm, relaxing sun, or a soft, comfortable bed waiting for them.


	5. Blades (Lem/Hella/Fero)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

Ordenna was an island - all of it is hot, sunny, and horribly humid. Cold drinks were a rare treat, and Hella didn’t have a hot drink until she first came to the mainland, when the weather started to turn cold.

 

She’d been to Velas many times, but normally she went home for their cold season, returning to Ordenna to help her family until the season turned again and it was time for her to head back out. The few times before she had stayed during the colder weather, she’d been travelling, days of long marches and hard fighting that left her too tired to feel the cold.

 

This time, however, her reasons for staying were something entirely different.

 

“Come on!” said Fero excitedly, tugging on her sleeve, “it’s this way!”

 

Hella let herself be led, shooting Lem an amused look. Lem smiled, pressing his lips together to suppress a laugh.

 

Fero led them both through the streets, moving quickly ahead of them and then doubling back to chastise them for dawdling. The streets became more and more crowded as they got closer to their destination, despite the bite of cold in the air.

 

As the reached the final corner Fero skidded to a halt in front of her. “Wait, wait, wait. Hold on, um, so, Lem was talking to Hadrian yesterday and he said you’d never done it and I was like, well, obviously we  _ have _ to take Hella, because it’s like, the  _ most  _ fun thing--”

 

“What Fero’s trying to say,” said Lem, “is that we’re both very excited, and we hope you like it.”

 

Fero nodded. “Yeah! Okay! So! Um, here it is!” He pulled again on her sleeve, tugging her forward, so that she could finally see what lay around the corner. “Ta da!”

 

It was… well. The large pond that normally made up the centre of the square had frozen over, and people were sliding around on it, strange blades strapped to their feet. Groups of children chased each other along the surface, and couples slid arm in arm (some looking more steady than others). She thought she spotted Rosana and Hadrian across the other side of frozen water, moving slowly together along the edge.

 

“You want me to do that,” said Hella, watching as one of the younger couple did a daring-looking spin.

 

“Yeah, it’s super fun!” said Fero, “come on!”

 

“It’s very easy,” said Lem, “once you find the rhythm of it.”

 

A group of children slid past and an adult, their tutor, probably, gliding backwards in front of them. Hella looked back down at Fero’s hopeful expression.

 

“Fine,” said Hella.

 

Fero beamed. “Great! I’ll go get us skates!”

 

He disappeared, ducking under people’s elbows towards the crowded cart nearby.

 

“There’s a lake near the Archives that freezes over in winter,” said Lem, “Fero and I used to go there all the time.” He put his hand on her arm and leant in, conspiratorial. “He told me that a group of otters taught him how to skate, but just between you and me I think that might be a little bit of a story.”

 

Hella laughed, letting herself lean into the warmth of Lem’s shoulder.

 

“Alright! Okay!” said Fero, “Got ‘em!”

 

Lem and Fero helped Hella with the laces of her skates, and she leant on them as she walked slowly towards the ice. Fero slid on in front of her, gliding a couple of paces before turning back towards them. Lem’s step was a little unsteady at first before he levelled out, grinning down at Fero before he looked back to her.

 

Hella took a breath and stepped cautiously onto the ice. Her first step held okay, but as soon as her other foot was on the ice, she felt the ground begin to slip beneath her. Lem quickly put an arm out to support her and she gripped his shoulder hard. Fero went to her other side, putting a steadying hand on her hip.

 

“Hey, don’t worry,” said Fero, “we’ve got you.”

 

She put her hand on Fero’s shoulder and he covered it with his own, squeezing. 

 

She let out a long breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

 

“I mean, this  _ is _ supposed to be a fun thing,” said Fero.

 

“I don’t know if falling over onto ice is going to be fun,” said Hella.

 

“You’re not going to fall over!” said Fero, “and even if you do, we’ll help you up again, right Lem?”

 

“Right,” said Lem, with a nod, “and we’ll go very slow. That’s how we learnt at the Archives.”

 

“Okay,” said Hella, moving her feet experimentally, “ _ slowly _ .”

 

They kept close to her as they moved around the ice, Fero with a hand on her hip and Lem with a hand on her shoulder, neither of them saying anything the times she clutched at them, certain she was going to slip over. They made one circuit, and then another, and then another.

 

“See?” said Fero, “It’s  _ easy _ .”

 

“Off course you’d say that,” said Hella, “you were taught by a group of otters.”

 

Fero laughed. He pressed his lips together, flicking a glance to were Lem was skating a little ahead of them and then leaning up towards her. Hella slowed, cautiously leaning down to him.

 

“Actually, _ I  _ taught the otters,” said Fero.

 

Hella snorted a laugh, wobbling on her skates before righting herself again. “Of course.”

 

Lem looped behind them, and Hella smoothly slipped her arm around his waist, feeling pleased at the faint blush the action brought to his cheeks. She could feel Fero on her other side, a steady warmth at her hip as he grinned up at her.

 

“You two were right,” said Hella, “this is fun.”


	6. Fire (Ephrim/Fero)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

The sound of the fire was overwhelming as they scrambled out from the stairwell. What little unity they’d had in the underground world as they fought the otherworldly halflings disappeared the moment the others saw the flames, running for whatever exit they could find.

 

Ephrim was not afraid. Fire had, after all, always been a comfort to him. Even as it made the roof above him crack and groan, he felt no fear. As long as he felt calm, the fire around him would be calm. It melted back under his hand, forming a path just for him.

 

He felt a sharp tug on his cloak and turned his head, raising his eyebrows at Fero.

 

Fero tilted his head to look up at him, his grin a little crooked. “Mind leading the way out?” He gestured to the flames either side of them, “Seems like kind of your area.”

 

Ephrim let out a huff of laughter. “I suppose. Move quickly, and keep close.”

 

He widened the circle around him, so the flames weren’t so close to Fero. Fero shot him a grateful look, his hand still clenched around Ephrim’s cloak. He would wrinkle it terribly if he kept that up the whole way out. Ephrim sighed, putting an arm around Fero’s shoulders and guiding Fero in front of him.

 

He kept a hand on Fero’s shoulder, pushing him forward as he used his other hand to guide the flames. They made their way to a small back exit, Fero flinching at every creak and groan of the roof above. He kicked the door open, a surprising show of force, leaping out onto the pavestones of the small courtyard. Ephrim stepped out behind him, shaking soot from his cloak.

 

The roof gave another, louder, sound of protest, and Ephrim saw Fero’s eye’s widen. “Look out!”

 

He dived for Ephrim, tugging at his cloak with a momentum that it pulled Ephrim to the ground. He landed mostly on top of Fero, his long cloak laying over the top of them like a blanket, muffling the new roar of the fire.

 

“Uh,” said Fero, “Sorry, I thought it was going to, like, come out the doorway or something.”

 

“Fire does as I wish it,” said Ephrim.

 

“Right, yeah,” said Fero,”because of the whole…” He gestured, his whole body wriggling with it under Ephrim. “But it’s still  _ fire _ .”

 

“It does  _ as I wish it _ ,” said Ephrim, feeling the familiar inner fire of  _ control _ leech into his voice almost without meaning to.

 

“Right,” said Fero, his voice cracking a little.

 

Ephrim smirked, feeling the heat of the flames at his back and the heat of Fero under him. There was power in both, and Ephrim could feel it  _ thrum _ through him.

 

“Most things do as I wish it,” Ephrim added.

 

He could feel Fero squirm under him, like a fly trying to free itself from a spider’s web. He smirked again, pressing the length of his body against Fero for a moment before he pushed himself up. Fero looked up at him, pupils blown wide despite the bright light of the fire burning behind him.

 

Ephrim extended a hand, helping Fero to his feet. He led Fero out of the courtyard and away, back to his private rooms. Fero let himself be led without resistance, surprising for one usually so stubborn.

 

Weeks later, Samothes would look deep into Ephrim’s eyes and ask him bring Fero into the light, and Ephrim would say  _ of course, my Lord, _ but a small part of him would whisper that Fero was already in Ephrim’s own light. Ephrim was devout, but there were some things that belonged to only him.

  
He was a prince, after all.   



	7. Get Ready (Hella/Hadrian)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

Hadrian began with her underclothes, making sure they were clean before he helped Hella slide them on (of course they were, he'd washed them himself). 

 

Next came the padded under-armour, secured with ties. Hella tested the range of motion it left her, giving a pleased grunt. Hadrian let himself enjoy the small moment of warmth in his chest at her approval before he refocused on his task.

 

Her leathers came next. Hadrian carefully secured each buckle and clasp, his finger moving slowly over Hella's sides. She held her arms out to him, so that he could secure the bracers on her arms, careful not to catch any cloth in the metal clasps. 

 

Lastly, he knelt before her to help her into her boots. Her gaze was warm on the back of his neck as he secured her laces. 

 

When he had finished he sat back on his heels, casting his eyes over his work. Hella reached out, touching him for the first time, cupping his cheek before sliding her hand into his short hair, her nail scratching lightly across his scalp. Hadrian closed his eyes, leaning into her, drawing strength for the coming battle from her touch. 

 

After, when they were both mud-splattered and bruised, Hadrian would repeat the process in reverse, sinking to his knees in front of her almost as soon as they were alone. 

 

Hella huffed a laugh at his eagerness, good-natured and warm, letting out a soft sigh as Hadrian helped her shed her layers. 

 

Once he had finished, she leant back on her palms on the rough bedroll, watching him with dark eyes.

 

“Your turn.”


	8. Ship (Tender/Signet/Fourteen/Echo/Even/Grand/Gig)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

Their lives are very busy, as you would expect given their job of being spies-slash-humanitarian-outreach (slash-maybe-interplanetary-cops?). Being in split groups didn’t help matters either, since they never could tell what the scheduling would be, who would be onboard the Notion and when. Still, they tried to get together for date night at least once a month to do something that wasn’t just collapsing into bed next to one another.

 

They took turns picking a place or an activity - a out-of-the-way art museum one time, once on the rooftop bar garden high above the city, another time crowding the back row of an old movie theatre. This time they’d stayed on the ship, picnic blankets of all shapes and sizes spread out over the floor and a bright blue sky projected on the mesh above them.

 

Signet lay with her head in Tender’s lap. She sighed. “It’s beautiful.”

 

Tender’s eyes crinkled as she smiled down at Signet. “Thank you. I thought it might be nice to have something a bit more quiet, after that last mission.”

 

Signet hummed in agreement, her gaze drifting down to where Tender’s tail was curled around a tendril of Even’s hair, the rest of it slung over Gig’s shoulder as Gig finished braiding it, then began to undo it so that he could rebraid it again, the movement of his hands quick and precise. 

 

He said he found the motion of it peaceful. Judging from the way Even’s eyes had slipped closed he did too, his face peaceful even as Echo leaned more heavily into his side, their hands flicking small gestures as they talked to Fourteen. Signet couldn’t hear what they were saying them from where she was, but she could hear Fourteen’s quiet laugh and just make out Echo’s sharp grin and Grand's blush.

 

Signet smiled, letting her eyes fall closed. Tomorrow, they would get up and return to their important, hurried work saving the world. But for now, this room was the world, and it was entirely perfect.


	9. Warmth (AuDy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

AuDy can’t feel warmth, not really. Oh, they  _ have _ heat sensors, but it’s not quite the same as how organics feel heat, more of a series of rising numbers to a melting point.

 

And also, sometimes those sensors can malfunction, and it makes it even more difficult than usual to tell if something in the Kingdom Come is malfunctioning.

 

Mako bangs on the door to the bridge, even though it is not at all locked, before sliding it open with overly-dramatic force. AuDy keeps their hands on the ship’s controls and does not turn their body towards him.

 

“AuDy! It’s like a billion degrees in here!”

 

“If it was a billion degrees in this ship you would be dead,” says AuDy.

 

Mako groans. “You know what I mean! I thought you said you were going to fix the cooling system?”

 

“I am,” says AuDy.

 

“Yeah but  _ when _ ?” says Mako.

 

They pause. “Later.”

 

Mako throws his hands up in the air. “ _ AuDy _ ! Come on!”

 

“Perhaps you would not feel so hot it you were not wearing clothes made entirely of plastic,” AuDy offers.

 

Mako makes a loud sound of frustration and stomps out of the room. AuDy waits for a moment before leaning over to flick a small switch on the side of the control panel, and the door slides shut.

 

It doesn’t stay shut for long. This time it’s Aria, Jacqui hovering behind her. They are, at least, dressed more sensibly for the warm conditions than Mako was. The holographic panels on Aria’s sports bar throw strange lights onto the screen in front of them, a rainbow of colours overlaying the stars.

 

Aria knocks on the side of wall. “Hey, AuDy, you got a minute?”

 

“I have many,” says AuDy, “Or I presume I do, at any rate.”

 

“Right,” says Aria. She lets out a huffed breath. “Listen, about the heat in here, I don’t want to hassle you, because I know Mako already came and like, made a big fuss about it or whatever, but it’s  _ really _ hot in here, and honestly even just, like, an ETA on when you  _ think _ you can fix it would be great.”

 

AuDy can feel their internal fans whirring. “I do not have an ETA to give you.”

 

Aria opens her mouth and then shuts it again, taking a deep breath in. “But you  _ are _ working to get it fixed, right?”

 

“I am,” says AuDy.

 

“Uh, no offence,” says Jacqui, “but how?”

 

“I am thinking about it,” says AuDy.

 

Aria makes a noise of surprise. “AuDy, I thought you were fixing it!”

 

“I have just told you that I am,” says AuDy.

 

“You--” Aria makes a frustrated noise, “fine, I’ll fix it myself! How difficult could it be?”

 

Like Mako, she leaves the door open. AuDy flicks the switch again, to close it. It is a very useful switch, and they are very glad that they thought to install it.

 

The next interruption takes longer. There is much banging below them, presumably Aria and Jacqui trying to fix the cooling system. AuDy would offer their suggestion, if Aria was actually anywhere near the cooling system.

 

There’s a polite knock at the door, then a pause, and then another knock.

 

“You may come in,” says AuDy.

 

It’s Cass, because of course it is. They have one of Mako’s headbands on, keeping their sweat-damp hair out of their face.

 

“I have no update on the cooling system,” says AuDy, before they can say anything.

 

Cass huffs a laugh. “Getting a lot of visitors about that today, huh?”

 

AuDy tilts their body in an approximation of a nod.

 

“Yeah, me too,” says Cass, “I thought I’d better come up here and see if you need any help with it.”

 

“I do not,” says AuDy.

 

“Right,” says Cass, “right.” They pause. “Aria said you were, uh, thinking about it?”

 

“I am,” says AuDy, “I believe I am close to a solution.”

 

“Great,” says Cass, “that’s great.” They hover in the doorway. “So, uh, I guess I’ll leave you to it?”

 

“That would be greatly appreciated,” says AuDy.

 

Cass closes the door themselves as they leave. AuDy hums to themselves for a moment before letting out an approximation of a sigh, bringing up the internal blueprints for the Kingdom Come. They suppose it is time to put thoughts into action.

 

Several sighs echo through the corridor as the cooling system comes back online.

 

And then.

 

“ _ AuDy _ !” yells Mako, as he stomps towards up towards the bridge, “it’s too cold in my room!”

 

AuDy leans over and flicks another switch on their control panel to lock the bridge door. They have had enough of visitors for today.


	10. Stars (Sokrates/Mako)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.
> 
> Also, big shout out to Kay, without whomst I would never have thought of this pairing.

After night falls, one of Sokrates’s favourite things is to sit out on their small porch and look up at the stars. The last rays of sunlight turn the sky purple as it slips below the treeline. Sokrates wraps their hands around their mug of tea, watching as the small points of lights glow brighter. 

 

They used to do this on Apostalos too, when they could get away from their royal schedule enough. Their schedule as defector-slash-runaway-scion is much more flexible.

 

There was the faint sound of a door inside slamming open. Sokrates made a face, huffing a laugh to themselves. They knew that the force of the door opening wasn’t a sign of barely controlled anger, as it would have been during the war (or, even before that, on Apostalos), just another aspect of exuberance.

 

Mako, they were coming to learn, was just like that.  


 

“I’m outside,” they called.

 

The back door creaked open and Mako peered around it. “What’cha doin’?”

 

“Watching.”

 

“Watching what?”

 

Sokrates shook their head slightly. “Just watching.”

 

Mako paused for a moment before he stepped out, letting the door fall heavily shut behind him and coming to sit beside them. He plucked the mug from Sokrates’s hands.

 

“There’s more tea inside you know,” said Sokrates.

 

Mako grinned. “Probably, yeah.”

 

Sokrates huffed, more amused than annoyed, and turned their gaze back up to the night sky above them. They were both silent for a long moment, Mako’s leg jiggling against the stone of the steps.

 

“Do you think you can see it from here?” said Mako, his voice sounding loud in the stillness of the night air. “September, I mean.”

 

Sokrates looked at Mako out of the corner of their eye, careful to keep their head turned towards the sky. “Possibly, if we had some kind of telescope. We’re quite a way out.” They paused. “They probably can’t see  _ us _ either.”

 

Mako flinched, his hands curling tight around the mug in his lap. “Right, yeah, totally.”

 

Sokrates leant closer, just a little, just so that Mako would be able to feel the warmth of them, if he needed it.

 

“It’s somewhere that way,” they said, gesturing, “they couldn’t see us, even if they were looking. Which, I highly doubt they are. You’ve disappeared, Mako, as surely as I have.”

 

Mako’s body relaxed slightly, his shoulder just brushing against theirs. “Maybe. You don’t  _ know _ though.”

 

Sokrates hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t. But I  _ am _ pretty comfortable in my level of confidence about it.”

 

Mako shot them a look, taking a small sip of the tea and immediately making a face.

 

“Yes, I should have told you,” said Sokrartes, “there’s no sugar in that.”

 

“Blergh,” said Mako, handing the mug back.

 

“An acquired taste,” said Sokrates, taking a sip before setting the mug down beside them.

 

“So,” said Mako, after a moment, “which way’s home?”

 

Sokrates looked back up to the night sky, bright with far-away worlds and further-away problems, considering the distance for a moment.

 

“Apostalos is a very long way  _ that _ way,” said Sokrates, “but home is right here.” They considered him for a moment, sharp blue face illuminated by the moonlight. “Your home can be wherever you choose to make it, you know.”

 

Mako looked at them and then away again, down to where their hands were leaning, close together but not yet touching, in the small space between them.

 

“How do…” Mako paused, biting his lip. “How do you know when you’ve made it?”

 

Sokrates smiled. “You feel it, I think, somewhere in your chest.”

 

Mako considered this for a moment, his fingers brushing against theirs, a whisper of touch.

 

“Wherever I choose to make it,” Mako said softly to himself, “huh.”

 

Sokrates hummed, looking up again at the sky above, darker now than it had been before, but filled even more with lights.


	11. Divine Intervention (Signet/Belgard, Signet/OFC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

Signet smiled at the woman across from her. It had been a nice dinner, sitting close to one another to be heard over the burble of other restaurant conversation. 

 

“This has been lovely,” said Alysia, “It's almost a shame that the meal is over.”

 

“It can continue, if you’d like,” said Signet, laying her hand over Alysia's.

 

“What did you have in mind?” said Alysia, smiling at Signet in a way that showed off her dimples. 

 

“We could go for a walk along the river,” said Signet, “I hear there's a beautiful array of fountains.”

 

Alysia hummed, leaning closer. “What about after that?”

 

Signet leaned in closer still. “After that we could--”

 

Belgard chimed in her mind, a cold, sudden sound. Signet flinched, sending a question through their connection. Belgard didn't make a proper reply, only sending through the cold sound again, ringing through Signet like a bell. 

 

Signet blinked, trying to remember who was in front of her and what she had been saying. Ah. Alysia. Signet winced internally. 

 

“I'm sorry,” said Signet, “I'm afraid I won't be able to go on that walk after all.”

 

Alysia put her hand on Signet's arm, but Signet could barely feel it. “I hope everything's okay?”

 

“Yes, it’s just… something I have to go check on,” said Signet. “I really do apologise, maybe another time?”

 

“Of course,” said Alysia, giving her a hopeful smile.

 

Signet was able to walk her to her shuttle, at least, without another chime from Belgard. Belgard did push, though, at her mind, as though reminding her of its presence.

 

“I hope whatever your urgent matter is, it won’t keep you away for too long,” said Alysia.

 

Signet tucked a stray strand of hair behind Alysia’s ear, ignoring Belgard’s sharp chime at the motion. “If it does, I will be sure to keep you in my thoughts.”

 

Signet waited until Alysia’s shuttle had rounded the corner before she turned, walking quickly to the Mariposa, quickly strapping herself in. Belgard chimed, this time with less urgency and more warmth, a peaceful summer kind of sound. Signet let out a long breath, leaning back in the seat and tilting her head back, her eyes closed.

 

“There’s no need to be  _ so _ jealous, you know,” said Signet. “It’s you I carry with me, after all.”

 

Belgard chimed again, sounding pleased.


	12. Time Is Long (Gig/Sokrates)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

Time is strange, in the Mirage. Most people in the Fleet had a basic understanding of the strangeness of it, depending on what their job was. You noticed the strangeness more if you travelled a lot, flight times changing on you mid-trip, or if you spent a lot of time in streams, picking up bits and pieces of transmissions out of context.

 

As someone who was in those streams almost 24/7 (or whatever the Mirage-appropriate version of ‘all the time’ would be), Gig was pretty used to picking up broadcasts coming from somewhen they shouldn’t. He was pretty fond of them, really, especially the ones that were more like wrong numbers, people calling through to remind someone not to forget to pick up the milk on the way home, someone calling to say happy anniversary, snippets of ordinary life from millennia ago.  


 

Gig could tell when one of those calls was coming in, the vision in his cybereye going slightly static. Technically, if you knew a call from a wrong time period was coming through, you weren’t supposed to pick up. You were supposed to make note of it, and let the closest Stitch Analyst know, and just leave it alone. Gig had never been particularly good at that. And anyway, he reasoned, he _was_ sort of a Stitch Analyst. Technically.

 

The static in his eye slowly came into focus. Gig could see the background before he could properly make out the person, dark metal decorated with tiles and rich curtain fabrics lit by gilded lamps. An Apostalosian in very nice, but  _ very _ vintage, clothing blinked at him, frowning. They looked sort of familiar. 

 

Gig squinted at them with his bio eye. He wondered how long ago this was from. Maybe he’d met them when they were older. Or younger, maybe.

 

“Huh,” they said, “Sorry, I thought I… huh. I didn’t think secured channels could do wrong numbers.”

 

“Happens all the time!” said Gig brightly, “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

 

“You get top secret phone calls accidentally all the time?”

 

“Well, no, you’re the first on that,” said Gig, “but I do get a lot of wrong numbers.”

 

“Maybe  _ I _ have the wrong number,” they said, looking at something on the desk in front of them and then back up at Gig, “It’s showing on my end as the right call sign.”

 

“Oh, yeah, it does that,” said Gig, “that’s the Mirage, I think, it like, pulls a number from here and puts it there, and then  _ bam _ , you mean to call your grandmother for her birthday and you get me instead!”

 

“The Mirage?” they ask, sounding wary.

 

“Yeah, uh, listen, don’t freak out, and I’m kind of not supposed to tell people this, but I figure, you know, the Mirage knows what it’s doing-- You’re calling the future right now.”

 

They blink at him, once, slowly. “I’m calling the future.”

 

“ _ Yeah _ ,” said Gig emphatically, “you’re calling the  _ future _ !”

 

There’s a pause, and then the Apostalisian laughs. They scrub a hand over their face.

 

“I’m serious!” says Gig.

 

They huff a laugh. “Right. Well, how’s it going in the future?”

 

“Well, obviously I can’t give you any specifics.”

 

“Oh, obviously,” they say.

 

They’re smiling now, leaning forward on their desk.

 

“But it’s good, you know, not much happening right now, just sort of waiting for some friends to get back and then we’ll probably do something as a group, because Cascara’s really on at us to do more team bonding that’s not just work stuff.”

 

“Team bonding huh,” they say, “and how’s that going?”

 

“Well, I kind of love it, so  _ I _ think it’s going great,” said Gig.

 

They laugh again, leaning back in their chair. “That’s a good attitude to have.”

 

Gig beamed at them. “Thanks! So, how’s the past?”

 

They snort, the corners of their mouth turning down slightly. “Well, we’re in the middle of a war, so not  _ great _ .”

 

“In the middle of a…” Gig trailed off, looking closer at the projection, “Hey, what’s your name?”

 

They sigh. “Sokrates Nikon Aretmisios, formerly of the House Pelagios.”

 

“ _ Wow _ ,” said Gig, breathing out the word as a sigh, “Wow, you’re…wow. So that war you’re in right now is… wow.”

 

“That’s… not usually the response I get these days,” said  _ the _ Sokrates, who was literally talking to Gig right now, holy shit.

 

“Sorry, I just… we get taught all of that stuff, like, everything you did, how it’s all part of the Fleet's founding principles or whatever, but, wow… it’s really cool to meet you. If this was in person I’d totally ask for your autograph right now.”

 

“I don’t know any fleet,” said Sokrates.

 

“Yeah, because it’s from the future, like me!” said Gig.

 

“Right,” said Sokrates, “Right, in the future, kids are going to learn about me in schools.”

 

“Yeah!” said Gig, “I did a project on you and everything, I did this vid where I-- well, I probably can’t tell you, because I don’t think it’s happened for you yet, but it was  _ very _ cool, almost as cool as what you actually did.” He paused. “Will do, I mean, when you get to it.”

 

Sokrates looked at him for a moment, letting out a quiet laugh. “You know, I think I almost believe you. I don’t think anyone from my present time would be that positive about what I’m doing right now. Even the people who came with me aren’t  _ that _ enthusiastic.”

 

“But you did the right thing,” said Gig, “I mean, you’re  _ doing _ the right thing. That’s the coolest thing I can think of.”

 

Gig’s eye started to go static. “Oh, wait, no, come on--” He tried to hold onto the feed for a little longer. “The call’s dropping out.”

 

“Oh.” Sokrates frowned, tapping something on their end. “Wait, I-- what’s your name?”

 

“It’s Gig! Gig Kep-hart! It’s really great to meet you!”

 

“It was good to speak to you too, Gig,” said Sokrates, “I wish--”

 

Static cut off the rest of their words. Gig couldn't get the call back up, although he did try. It’s not like there’s really any kind of frequency to track.

 

Gig sighed, turning his cybereye over in his hand. “ _ I wish _ too.”

 

\--

 

Thousands of millions of years in the past, Sokrates placed a small potted plant on their desk, it’s single bright flower facing towards the window.

 

They touched one of the petals lightly with one finger. “I’m going to call you ‘Gig’.”


	13. Regret (Gig)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

People ask Gig a lot about the broadcasts - how he does it, what he needs for it, how long it takes him to put one together. He’s happy to answer their questions (he’s  _ always _ happy to answer _any_ questions), but he does think it’s strange that no one ever asks about the other side of it.

 

The stream suppressor.

 

It’s a strange term, Gig thinks, because it doesn’t suppress the stream. It only suppresses him. Well, part of him. A part he never particularly liked anyway.

 

Gig’s never had to make the argument, because no one’s ever asked, but if he  _ did _ have to, he’d say that of  _ course _ it makes sense to trade a feeling for broadcasting boost. Who  _ wouldn’t _ want the ability to cut away something negative to give them something that made them better at the thing they loved to do? And if it _had_ turned out that it would of cut out a positive emotion, well. He would have crossed that bridge when he came to it. Maybe he still would have kept it in. Maybe not, if it was an emotion worth feeling.

 

Not that there wasn’t worth in sadness, of course. Gig would  _ never _ say that. Of  _ course _ if someone was feeling sad it didn’t make them less worthwhile. But it  _ did _ make it harder to get on a stream in front of millions of people and grin into the camera while you taught them how to refit a drainpipe.

 

And yeah, sometimes it did mean there were some things he just couldn’t do anymore. He could go with Signet and help her talk to people in need, because having a big, beaming grin threw people off in that kind of emotionally delicate situation. He wasn’t great at going to art galleries with Grand anymore either, because Grand said he only  _ understood _ half the artworks now.

 

They could take it out of him, if he asked. All he’d have to do was say he didn’t want it anymore, and they’d take it out, and everything would go back to how he’d been before, with a full spectrum of emotions and a low broadcasting range.

 

Gig didn’t tell people that part either. He never even thought about it as an option. Never even once. And that’s all he had to say about that.


	14. Saplings (Sokrates)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

After it’s over, after the running and fighting is done and the people who used to be their friends splinter apart, Sokrates disappears.

 

It’s very easy to do, it turns out, when nobody particularly wants to find you.

 

They land their borrowed (stolen) ship on Slighter, far away from any trace of civilization. It’s so _quiet_ , after the noise of fighting, and arguments, and the war. They pace the small clearing for a long time. They head back inside their ship. They come back out again. They stand a little way back, looking at the scarred metal. It’s been through a long journey to get here, it looks more than a little worse for wear, but it will have to do.

 

They spend the new few months close to their ship, wearing a path from the nearby stream through the forest. They learn to cook outside in good weather, and eat their rations cold when it’s not. They hunt (with limited success), and use the ship’s computer to figure out which plants in the forest won’t kill them.

 

The reeds that grow by the stream taste just like the ones they had at home. They try them once, and then throw the rest away. There are other things they can eat, things that don't come with so many memories attached.  


 

Sokrates digs in the rich, dark soil of the clearing, making space for their own small garden. They’ll have to go into town eventually, of course, but it’s nice to be able to rely on themselves, to not have to barter and wheedle and argue their way into a compromise with someone.

 

It’s nice, too, to sit in the shade of the tall pine, and watch things grow, and know that  _ they did that _ and that it _worked_.  



	15. Family (The Chime)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done as part of [the 15 days of FatT](https://twitter.com/KatieDiek/status/961016929287901184) (what a rad idea Katie!!). Tags will be updated as I go!
> 
> Thanks to Maddie, for looking it over and letting me talk things out in the side comments of the gdoc, as always.

“Phones  _ off _ ,” says Cass, as soon as Mako sits down.

 

“The phone is literally in my brain,” says Mako, “I  _ can’t  _ turn it off!”

 

Cass doesn’t look up from where they’re setting out dishes of food. “AuDy’s a robot, and they turned  _ their  _ phone off.”

 

“I lied,” says AuDy, conversationally.

 

“ _ AuDy _ !” says Cass.

 

“I will ignore all calls,” says AuDy.

 

“I can ignore calls too!” says Mako.

 

“I have never seen you do that in your life,” says Cass, “ _ Off _ .”

 

“Fine,” groans Mako.

 

Aria pushes open the door, dragging a much-less-apologetic-looking Jacqui behind her.

 

“Sorry we’re late!” says Aria.

 

“We were picking up dessert, and there was this  _ huge _ line and then this guy was like  _ are you Aria Joie _ and I thought he was going to let me in front of him so I was like  _ yeah, hi _ , and then people kept asking for autographs--”

 

“You could have just said no,” says Jacqui.

 

“No I couldn’t,” says Aria.

 

“No she couldn’t,” says Mako, at the same time.

 

Aria laughs, and shoves his shoulder with her free hand. Mako gasps and clutches his shoulder.

 

“You can put it in the fridge,” says Cass, “and also--”

 

“Turn my phone off, yeah yeah, I know, I will,” says Aria, heading towards the kitchen.

 

“You too,” says Cass, gesturing at Jacqui with a serving spoon.

 

“Turn my phone off?” says Jacqui, wrinkling her nose.

 

“Yeah babe,” says Aria. She leans up, kissing Jacqui on the cheek before taking her hand again to lead her towards the table. “Phones off for family time.”

 

Jacqui sits down, looking around at them all. “This is one weird family.”

 

Aria laughs, and squeezes her hand. “Yeah, but we do alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
